Fortress of Lost Worlds (23 page)

Gonji’s jaw tightened, his neck arching to hear her calculated challenge. “What can I do from here?”

“I cannot say. You are held in check here by the poised balances of several powerful interests. Some good, some misguided…some, clearly new outgrowths of the arms of the Evil Unknown. But you must learn what you can while imprisoned here and, when you’ve judged the time is right, you must free yourself somehow and go to Africa.”

“
Africa
?
What—?”

“Remember the diamond—the display of spheres in my Tower of Gramarye—the diamond’s shape tightens, becomes more symmetrical. They who control the fortresses where the angles intersect control the nexus of worlds and the territories within. You have shattered evil’s power at the eastern point—Vedun. I have lost the western to them in my folly. The northern point is contended eternally in a mountain fastness by powers you would not understand. Nor do I, to be quite frank. But the
southern
point, that which lies in the trackless desert of Algiers, is the anchor.
You must close
that gateway,
lest evil win control of the diamond and hold sway over its gateways, to strike out as it pleases against all worlds that touch those portals. And Gonji
-san
, you will need help to do it.”

Gonji gazed at her with furrowed brow, mystified. “What help?”

“The gatekeeper’s, of course,” she said cryptically. “The one who has concealed the secret of the southern point. There must be one, as there is at each gateway.”

“Gatekeeper…? How did you learn this secret?” Gonji puzzled. “And if you did, why don’t you know more of this evil conspiracy you speak of? You’re just one more of the scholars and seers and priests who have bedeviled me since—”

“Mmmm.” She smiled and waved a finger in a gesture that cautioned against further inquiry. “Any more I could say would be speculation. I do not wish to lead you falsely. I know of this gateway the same way
you
will know it when you find it. Now quiet… I must perform a final act of conjury—my presence here grows tenuous. I trust this poor child has all her fingers intact—
si
,
she will do fine.”

Gonji could see little of the esoteric spell the witch worked. He heard a soft muttering or chanting, repetitious and in some language unknown to him. Saw her hands—Valentina’s hands—ply the air now and again.

There was a sudden incandescence in the other cell, accompanied by a sound as of wind rushing through a thrust-open door that was as abruptly closed. Then the witch-possessed Valentina appeared at the grating again.

She held up the
wygyll’s medallion
.

“The one I bore?” the samurai asked with wonder.

“The same. You’ll need this. I can’t tell you why, or they may torture it out of you—now don’t give me that indignant look. They’ve spared you the worst so far, it seems. We’ll just conceal this on the
senorita—
about as safe a place as I can imagine right now—and you’ll just have to take her along when you decide to leave.”

“This is madness!” Gonji railed, lowering his voice to a whisper at once when he heard the broken snoring of a guard. “Why can’t you help me further? If you drew that thing with your power, then why can’t you send me my swords? Or a goddamn pistol?”

She sighed and shook her head. “My presence here in this sphere is at an end. Even now I feel the relentless pull of the long silver cord that draws my spirit to the Great Revelation, the answer to the eternal mysteries—mercy me! I hope it isn’t all revealed in one soggy lump! Ah, well…remember, samurai, that the things you do may yet affect even me in my realm to come. Who can say?

“Do you recall that I—as Paco—once told you that neutrality was impossible? I failed to heed my own warning. That was my tragic failing. These are times of choosing.
You
must choose sides and
fight.
Even as you have before, however bleak those outcomes. Your greatest duty is somehow yet to come. The powers who would choose good are confused, fighting amongst themselves. They need the clean edge of your objective vision, Gonji. Perhaps you, of all warriors on all spheres, are best suited to expose the conspiracy of Evil that destroys order in these scattered worlds. Destroy it, before it holds all possible worlds in its thrall!”

Gonji ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair, pondering it all. He saw Valentina begin to tremble.

“I’m afraid it’s come to an end for me. Fight well, Gonji-
san
,”
the witch urged in a tremulous voice.

“Wait, Domingo-
san
. The woman, Valentina—is there any help for her?”

“None. It’s the sickness Fracastoro gave name to—ahh,
syphilis.
”

“
Hai
,
syphiris,” Gonji echoed, remembering now, his intensity of thought giving rise to his occasional pronunciation problem. “They blame an evil spirit.”

“
Si
,”
she replied, shivering fearfully now, “they make magic culpable for such ugly things—
adios
, conquistador!”

Gonji watched Valentina’s eyes roll upward and her head snap back. Then the woman’s form sank from view. Slowly, as if descending through dream mist.

* * * *

When the shifts changed at dawn, Gonji was not surprised to discover that he hadn’t thought of sleep all that night. Nor was he sleepy. Fatigued, a-twitch with nervous tension, to be sure. But not interested in sleep.

He heard Valentina’s voice as Morales came around to greet the prisoners and bring their morning meal. Gonji searched the woman’s eyes, which were still strained with sleep.

“Buenos dias,
Gonji-
san
,” she said wanly, not seeming herself. “Did you dream of me?”

“
Si
,”
he replied. “I think I did.”

“Dreaming is not the same as having, my sweet. How do you say ‘my sweet’ in Japanese?”

Something stirred inside the samurai. “You can say ‘
chan
’—call me Gonji
-chan
.”

“Gonji
-chan.
” She laughed, liking the sound of it. “And I am
Val-chan
?”

Gonji shook his head slowly, his mind still elsewhere. “
Iye. Tina-chan.
The other lacks poetry.”

“
Poetry
?
Hah! Listen to him, now.”

Gonji gazed deeply into her eyes, holding his breath before whispering to her: “
Domingo
!”

He said it not as a name but with the flat enunciation of a simple word.

“
Domingo
?”
she responded. “Sunday? What about it? Are we off to church?” She smirked at him, then seemed to grow pensive. “Did I talk in my sleep last night?”

Gonji swallowed. “You always talk.”

“Sometimes it’s all one can do.”

“Sometimes it’s best not to be alone with one’s thoughts.”

Valentina cast him a critical glance, looking insulted. But Gonji was peering down the corridor to see how near Morales and his men approached. Two cells away on Gonji’s side.

“Tina-
chan
, listen,” he whispered.

“Que?”

“Just listen,
por favor.
Last night, I—I sent you something. I’ve been practicing, you see. Don’t be frightened. Just see whether—whether you still have it.”

She arched an eyebrow, regarding him for a moment as one did a lunatic. Then realization dawned, and she felt under her robe, a knowing look spreading over her features.

“
Diablo
!”
she said in a low voice. “What else did you do? My plague demon will devour you! How—?” She seemed disturbed by the mystery of it all.

Gonji gulped and lifted a reassuring hand. “Never mind. I did nothing else, just—just hide it. You must trust me. There’s no harm in it for you. I must—”

“
Ohayo
,
Gonji-
san
!”

Morales stood before him suddenly, and Gonji’s face instantly came to its blank set.

“
Ohayo
, Morarei-
san
. I must request—”

“No, all requests are denied again.”

“Why don’t you give him his swords?” Valentina grumbled at the sergeant’s back. “And then let me have his bath?”

“Silence, witch,” Morales called over his shoulder.

“Up your ass!”

“Well,
amigo
,”
Morales said, “I have some bad news, and I have some worse news. The bad news is that you have another visitor, but since you’ve refused to see visitors—”

“A visitor? Who?”

Morales seemed puzzled by Gonji’s sudden avidity. “A…a Jew. A rich one, by the look of him. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind in time to receive a
Jew
down here! The only Jews we’ve ever…entertained never left before!”

“
Hai
,
let me see him,
por favor
.”
Gonji’s mind reeled, came up empty. His lot had never been stranger. “What else?”

“Ah—
si
,
I’m afraid I’ve been transferred. Your new warden on this shift will be Sergeant Padilla, as of tomorrow.” He fielded Gonji’s questing look negatively. “No, you won’t get along. Do you really wish to see this Jew? I thought you samurai were stubborn about such resolutions—”

“This food is the morning’s
bad
news,” Valentina complained from across the corridor.

“Silence, witch, or you taste the torturer’s lash!”

“That
can be taken two ways—”

“Morarei-
san
,” Gonji said in earnest, “have you heard anything else, however slight, about their intentions for me?”

“No. I’m sorry. I can only wish you good fortune.”

Gonji bowed stiffly, and Morales looked about uncomfortably before casting him an abbreviated salute.

Gonji finished his meal quickly, and his mysterious visitor was brought to him. The samurai gaped an instant before composing himself: Striding up the corridor with many a birdlike flutter and nervous cluck over the oppressive dungeons, the merchant Jacob Neriah, from lamented Vedun, was admitted into Gonji’s cell.

“A Jew!” Valentina was shouting. “An infidel! What’s
he
doing walking about these dungeons freely while
I
rot here?”

“Hush up, Valentina. He’s an old friend,” Gonji said without rancor.

“Your
amigo
?”
she replied incredulously. “I shall immediately change my opinion of you, slant-eyes. Tell your friend how we mate our lice!”

Neriah stared at her in abject indignance until the door was clanged shut. He was visibly shaken by his surroundings.

“May all good
kami
smile upon you, old man, despite your dishonorable merchant’s calling,” Gonji said warmly, bowing to him.

“And may Yahweh spare you all torture most foul, friend samurai,” Neriah replied quaveringly, “though I’m afraid my prayer may be in vain.” He beat his breast and gazed about the tight, austere chamber. “Where I found the foolish courage to come to you here, I’m sure I don’t know. Judging by how thoroughly they searched me, I’d guess they might be considering keeping me here.”

“Except for your money,” Gonji said, smiling knowingly as he scanned the wealthy merchant’s well-appointed traveling garb.

“Yes, my friend, except for that, we’d be sharing the rack! Are all your parts intact?”

Gonji smiled thinly and stretched in response. He was both astonished and warmed to share a visit with the garrulous, wizened merchant, whom he’d not seen since the destruction of Vedun. He liked old Jacob, despite having been raised in a cultural structure in which a merchant occupied a social stratum below that of a gravedigger.

Neriah seemed more stooped with the years, but, if anything, more loquacious than ever. They spoke of the settlement that the Vedunian survivors had established on land owned by Neriah in Austria, and of the amazing circumstances that had brought him to Gonji.

“We shall get you out of here,” old Jacob was saying, “we
shall
, you know. By all the holy tribes, but this place stinks! How do you reconcile this with your strict upbringing? My, my, my—well, do you know, Wilfred and Genya Gundersen have sent their prayers and well-wishes? And the Benedettos, and the Monettos, and—and—well, have you come to hear of the marvelous social movement you’ve spawned?”

Gonji shook his head vapidly.

“Yes, well—social, religious—it’s hard to say exactly, except that it involves tolerance of another’s beliefs, and the sense of duty in opposition of political Evil, and I think it grows more militant with the passing years. You’ve become quite infamous. You do have supporters in high places: Grand Duke Frederick of Vienna, and certain prelates among the—the—”

“The Knights of Wonder?” Gonji inquired.

“Yes! The
Wunderknechten
! My, my, their work penetrates even this fanatical Christian grinding mill.” He extracted a handkerchief and cleared his irritated nose.

“I think this movement, or whatever it is, has caused me all my grief. Have they dared use my name in conjunction with their efforts?”

“Well, but, you
are
the chief influence behind it, you must know. You and your teaching about a place for every mode of thought, and all such. You haven’t changed your beliefs, have you?”

“I’m not sure I hold fast to
any
beliefs anymore. What of this business about getting me out of this reeking hellhole?”

“Ah, well, I’m not certain what they’ll do yet. They wanted me to discern for myself whether you were surviving as the Inquisition has claimed. You have no
idea
what letters of transit were required to—ooh-ooh! Be cheered, my friend! Your precious swords—your
dai…dai…
”

“
Daisho
,”
Gonji breathed in wonder, snapping alert.

“Yes! I’ve rescued them for you. Of course, I couldn’t bring them here, but—”

“You have my swords?” Gonji asked with shining eyes.

“It’s amazing what the Church will sell in the interests of money to support its cause. It seems they’ve deemed your witch’s blades free of black magic, now they’ve immersed them in enough holy water. I hope they haven’t rusted.”

“Oil them,
dozo
,
and lay them away safely.”

Neriah nodded. “Done! I will keep them close to me, and I plan on staying until your disposition. Take heart. Letters demanding your release are, well, not in truth
pouring
into Toledo, but…” He spread his hands in a gesture that Gonji found no comfort in. “You know, Gonji, you are a most unusual
goy—
gentile,
that is. If it weren’t for your strange heathen ways, I’d compare you to—to Moses himself, in your fashion. Even Moses was raised by heathens.”

“Never mind that. Just do what you can to get me out of here,
dozo.
Now that you’ve bought my swords, I can’t talk them into permitting me to commit
seppuku
to escape this dishonor.”